


The Doctor Is In

by blueraspberryrodimus (rosecolouredspectrespecs)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Anal, Anal Sex, Doctor Kink, Lemon, M/M, NSFW, NSFW text, Oral, Reader Insert, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, TF, TFP - Freeform, Transformers - Freeform, Transformers Prime - Freeform, blowjob, commission, idk what else to tag this, male reader - Freeform, mass displacement inferred, ratchet - Freeform, tfp ratchet - Freeform, valveplug, x Reader, x male reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 12:37:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20008414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosecolouredspectrespecs/pseuds/blueraspberryrodimus
Summary: Commission!Ratchet picks up his doctor male s/o from work and gets revved up. Sexual escapades ensure involving oral and anal sex.





	The Doctor Is In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [optimusfin3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/optimusfin3/gifts).



Ratchet, being a man of medicine himself, knew what it was like to spend long evenings on his work. He knew what it was like to go all day without a break, focusing all his energy on one project. It was something about you that he found endearing, but about himself as a burden. But you were built so much differently than he. You needed these breaks, needed the rest, for more than just physical and mental capacities. He knew he shouldn’t be too smothering about it, but he felt the need to check in on you. You sounded exhausted on the comm, so he offered to come pick you up. When he arrived, you were still working. Not with a patient, but with your equipment. The office was empty aside from you and your demons wrapped in examination table paper and thermometer covers. You had one too many pens sticking out of your scrubs pockets, and if your stethoscope hung any stranger around your neck it could strangle you. Clean up and organizing were such a crucial part of your job, you couldn’t just leave it for early morning work the following day.

Ratchet had never really seen you at work. Typically, you would freshen up and change before meeting with him. But there was just something about the way your scrubs hugged you, the way your lab coat hung down just below your knees, the way your hands brushed back your hair as you looked over at him like the picture of pure medical beauty. His spark seemed to skip a beat and his glossa felt a little strange in his mouth. You greeted him with that perfect toothy smile of yours and Ratchet was a mess over his own words. You were so devilishly handsome in your gear, the old medic was embarrassed at the way he felt the energon creep into his faceplates and for pressure to start building behind his panels. Just one short drive back to base…a very empty base at that, and he could have you all alone in the medbay.

The drive from your practice back to the old missile silo was tense. He knew you could sense it. There was just an air about you that seemed like you could just filter straight into his processor. That you just knew the way he was thinking about you. Maybe you could smell it on him, how he was desperate to get you home and tear that labcoat off your shoulders.  
The blast doors to the base had barely closed before he moved. His servos had you pinned to the wall with no escape. He wasn’t even touching you yet, just palms against the thick walls of the silo, and yet, it felt like you were completely trapped beneath him. But you could feel him, you could. His vents were heavy, hot, almost like steam emitting from his frame. Optics so intensely devouring your body with one look you felt naked while remaining completely clothed. Something that would have to change. Your lab coat draped helplessly off on shoulder, and when you went to adjust it, he stopped you.

“Let me have the pleasure of helping you out of this, Doctor,” Ratchet hummed, shucking the coat from your body. Everything else was like a whirlwind. Derma to lips moving with such desperation. Hands and fingers dipping into transformation seams. Servos and digits tracing over every bit of exposed skin as you undressed before him. You could hear the click of his cooling fans start up. Oh, it was like this, wasn’t it? A wicked smirk played upon your lips. He was just a needy as you were, but for now you had the high ground. You ran your hand along the length of his panels as you stepped towards him.

“Looks like we may need to look into this a little farther. Just want to make sure I’m giving you the proper diagnosis,” you purred. Your kisses trailed down his neck cabling as you pushed him down towards the floor, forcing him to be seated before you. You kissed down his chassis, frame running hot, all the way down his thighs until your lips were dangerously close to his closed interface array. It was then you noticed his interface paneling was leaking. The medic was suddenly so bashful, you thought maybe it was just an involuntary response. It was also then that you became aware of how aroused you were. The only layer between you and the Autobot was your underwear that seemed to be getting tighter by the minute. The outline of your cock was so obvious. You palmed over your growing erection and Ratchet took notice. 

You never knew Ratchet to beg. He just wasn’t that kind of mech. Even when he was getting needy, he was just more demanding than pleading. An aggressive way of begging, one could argue. When he needed it, he needed it now, no questions asked. And he needed you. So much. You were a visual tease. The way you moved, the way your hips swayed just a little while you walked. The way your lips twisted when you spoke or smiled or said his name. The way your body bent for him between muscles and the softer parts of you, he could hold you and you’d mold to his touch and yet remain firm at the same time. That drove him wild. In the beginning he could never think that someone made of flesh and bone like you could ever hotwire his processor like it did when he saw you.

His paneling transformed away so fast that you jumped back a little when his spike fully pressurized before you. Your soft hands ran up and down his length before you bent forward and took him in your mouth. You could hear his engines rev and sputter a moment before you continued to plant open mouthed kisses down his spike. The flexible metal was warm to your skin, and while you had a difficult time swallowing the whole of his spike, what your mouth couldn’t reach your hands did. You knew you were going a good job when one of Ratchet’s servos snaked through your hair, and when you looked up at him from between his thighs, his optics were bright with charge and his mouth fell open. But you didn’t want to get him too excited too soon. You licked up the bottom of his shaft and pulled away.

“There are a few more tests I’d like to run. I just need you to stay…patient.”

Ratchet’s optics rolled as you laughed. It was a good thing you were so handsome and that he was absolutely enamored with you or he would have kicked you out long before now for your bad puns alone. Nonetheless, actual patience was something that Ratchet couldn’t have right now. He was more desperate than he would ever care to admit, but he would show you. The moment you backed away to catch your breath, he pulled you on top of him, seating you on his chest and mouthplates eager to please you.

The malleable metal of his mouthplates around you was a sensation that you you’d have to grow to get used to. It wasn’t that you were scared, but your body flinched backwards on instinct because it was almost too different. A foreign feel of hot, wet metal twisting and pumping around you like this. Ratchet’s mouth was just some kind of wonderful, and you had to think how an old medic like him could just be so good at giving head like this. Once you adjusted you could really let yourself be taken over by the pleasures he was giving you. You stroked a hand down the side of his helm, hoping he’d get the indication that you were telling him how good he made you feel without words.

Because you couldn’t form words right now, even if your life depended on it. Strings of moans and soft repetition of his name were the only words your voice could find. His ministrations were too skilled, too good, and you were afraid that if he didn’t stop soon that you’d cum without warning. And it wasn’t like you could just get right back at it like giant alien robots could. So you held back, thigh muscles clenching a little too hard, eyebrows knit close. Something he took notice of.

“Please….Ratchet, I, nhh, I don’t think I can last long if you, ah, keep sucking me like this,” you managed to choke out.

“No medical puns this time? A shame,” he rolled his optics once more, slowing down his motions before breaking free. Now you were in a real limbo. You needed him to stop or else you’d finish too early, but you didn’t want him to stop because everywhere Ratchet touched you just felt so good. And if he couldn’t touch you there, he was still going to touch you. He loved getting his servos all over your body, feeling over every dip and curve and edge of your skin. His lips found yours again, swallowing you into his kiss. And his hands, those skilled hands, palmed up and down your length. A free servo moved around behind you, squeezing the underside of your ass then teasing you from underneath.

“Please…Ratchet, I just, I really need you,” the bridge of your nose and cheeks flushed red. You hated how desperate for him you were, but you needed this, you needed him, especially now he was touching you here.

“You do? What do you need?” His voice was clear, unfaltering. Steady.

“…you.”

“To do what?”

“…you know…”

“I want you to say it.” You choked back a moan as his digits teased at your entrance. You could hear the clicking of a cap and the sound of the medic’s servo pumping up and down his own spike.

“Ratchet, please…”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“I want you to fuck me,” your voice was bashful, shaky, but true.

“Good boy,” he hummed, tip of his spike replacing his finger. With care, he slowly pressed inside of you letting your body stretch and adjust to the new size. You held your breath, overwhelmed with the sensation. Then slowly he pulled back. Then in again, sliding in a little farther this time, tantalizingly slow. You needed him to move. But the way he filled your ass so nicely, so different than anything else, you were in no place to be issuing out demands. But once your body was able to swallow him to the hilt, Ratchet picked up his pace. Fucking you from slow to eager in a few languid thrusts, the old medic turned you into a filthy whining mess. Your moans were garbled while the low deep groans from him were soft. A balance. It wasn’t until he had picked a steady rhythm that you had found your words again.

“You’re going to need a defibrillator when we’re done Ratchet because if you keep fucking me I’m going to have a damn heart attack,” you panted, half laughing half moaning. He was just too good, it wasn’t fair. How a mech like him, normally so reserved, quiet, serious, had something like this burning inside him this whole time. You turned to look at him. He was a perfect picture of pleasure. His browplates furrowed, his optics burning bright. To him you were the most perfect thing in the universe and it was destroying him from the inside out. Because while you reveled in the glow of interface, Ratchet himself was holding back overload. 

“Ratchet…?”

“You’re just so tight I don’t know how much longer a mech can last,” he chuckled, vents blowing hard and cooling fans on his highest setting. His servos took you in his hands once more and began pumping you in unison with his hips.

“Please, I’m close, too. We can cum together?” you suggested, sweat beading up on your forehead as you threw your head back in pleasure. It was like he was waiting for your permission. In a few more thrusts, Ratchet’s spike twitched inside you as his overload took him over. Hot spurts of transfluid filling you up inside with a sensation you’d never felt before. His spike dragged over your most sensitive nerves and drove you into your own orgasm, and with Ratchet’s skilled hands working you like this, your oversensitive cock dribbled with cum as your body went limp with exhaustion.

You were a mess. A completely filthy mess. Ratchet slowly removed himself from your body and held you close. You were sticky and tired and handsome. In this tender moment, Ratchet let himself bask in the afterglow of how much he really cared for you. He cuddled you into his chassis whispering his thanks and praises for being with him and letting him be so intimate with you. He’d soon carry you off to the washroom so you could take a nice, long, hot shower and let the steam relax your sore muscles. Even Ratchet found himself in need of recharge. He’d wait for you to come to him before drifting off. He loved getting to snuggle with you as you fell asleep, even though he’d never admit it out loud. Even if you always wore those scratchy socks he hated.

**Author's Note:**

> Want to commission or request writing from me? Come visit me at @blueraspberryrodimus on tumblr!


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